#Festive Car Rendering

[motogadi]

AI Alchemy: Transforming Rolls Royce Ghost into a Christmas Fantasy!

Step into the realm where artificial intelligence meets automotive elegance, as we unveil a mesmerizing creation – a Rolls Royce Ghost adorned with the enchanting spirit of Christmas! This AI masterpiece is more than just pixels; it’s a digital symphony that blends luxury and festivity in a truly viral masterpiece. 1. The Marriage of Luxury and Festivity: Imagine the iconic Rolls Royce Ghost, a…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

"Efficiency" left the Big Three vulnerable to smart UAW tactics

Tomorrow (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. Tomorrow night, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

It's been 143 days since the WGA went on strike against the Hollywood studios. While early tactical leaks from the studios had studio execs chortling and twirling their mustaches about writers caving once they started losing their homes, the strikers aren't wavering – they're still out there, pounding the picket lines, every weekday:

https://www.cnbc.com/2023/08/09/how-hollywood-writers-make-ends-meet-100-days-into-the-writers-guild-strike.html

The studios obviously need writers. That gleeful, anonymous studio exec who got such an obvious erotic charge at the thought of workers being rendered homeless as punishment for challenging his corporate power completely misread the room, and his comments didn't demoralize the writers. Instead, they inspired the actors to go on strike, too.

But how have the writers stayed out since May Day? How have the actors stayed out for 69 days since their strike started on Bastille Day? We can thank the studios for that! As it turns out, the studios have devoted so much energy to rendering creative workers as precarious as possible, hiring as little as they can getting away with and using punishing overtime as a substitute for adequate staffing that they've eliminated all the workers who can't survive on side-hustles and savings for six or seven months at a time.

But even for those layoff-hardened workers, long strikes are brutal, and of course, all the affiliated trades, from costumers to grips, are feeling the pain. The strike fund only goes so far, and non-striking, affected workers don't even get that. That's why I've been donating regularly to the Entertainment Community Fund, which helps all affected workers out with cash transfers (I just gave them another $500):

https://secure2.convio.net/afa/site/Donation2?df_id=8117&8117.donation=form1&mfc_pref=T

As hot labor summer is revealed as a turning point – not just a season – long strikes will become the norm. Bosses still don't believe in worker power, and until they get their minds right, they're going to keep on trying to starve their workforces back inside. To get a sense of how long workers will have to hold out, just consider the Warrior Met strike, where Alabama coal-miners stayed out for 23 months:

https://www.thenation.com/article/activism/warrior-met-strike-union/

As Kim Kelly explained to Adam Conover in the latest Factually podcast, the Alabama coal strikers didn't get anywhere near the attention that the Hollywood strikers have enjoyed:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvyMHf7Yg0Q

(To learn more about the untold story of worker organizing, from prison unions to the key role that people of color and women played in labor history, check out Kelly's book, "Fight Like Hell," now in paperback:)

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Fight-Like-Hell/Kim-Kelly/9781982171063

Which brings me to the UAW strike. This is an historic strike, the first time that the UAW has struck all of the Big Three automakers at once. Past autoworkers' strikes have marked turning points for all American workers. The 1945/46 GM strike established employers' duty to cover worker pensions, health care, and cost of living allowances. The GM strike created the American middle-class:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-18-uaw-strikes-built-american-middle-class/

The Big Three are fighting for all the marbles here. They are refusing to allow unions to organize EV factories. Given that no more internal combustion cars will be in production in just a few short years, that's tantamount to eliminating auto unions altogether. The automakers are flush with cash, including billions in public subsidies from multiple bailouts, along with billions more from greedflation price-gouging. A long siege is inevitable, as the decimillionaires running these companies earn their pay by starving out their workers:

https://www.businessinsider.com/general-motors-ceo-mary-barra-salary-auto-workers-strike-uaw-2023-9

The UAW knows this, of course, and their new leadership – helmed by the union's radical president Shawn Fain – has a plan. UAW workers are engaged in tactical striking, shutting down key parts of the supply chain on a rolling basis, making the 90-day strike fund stretch much farther:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2023-09-18-labors-militant-creativity/

In this project, they are greatly aided by Big Car's own relentless pursuit of profit. The automakers – like every monopolized, financialized sector – have stripped all the buffers and slack out of their operations. Inventory on hand is kept to a bare minimum. Inputs are sourced from the cheapest bidder, and they're brought to the factory by the lowest-cost option. Resiliency – spare parts, backup machinery – is forever at war with profits, and profits have won and won and won, leaving auto production in a brittle, and easily shattered state.

This is especially true for staffing. Automakers are violently allergic to hiring workers, because new workers get benefits and workplace protection. Instead, the car companies routinely offer "voluntary" overtime to their existing workforce. By refusing this overtime, workers can kneecap production, without striking.

Enter "Eight and Skate," a campaign among UAW workers to clock out after their eight hour shift. As Keith Brower Brown writes for Labor Notes, the UAW organizers are telling workers that "It’s crossing an unofficial picket line to work overtime. It’s helping out the company":

https://labornotes.org/2023/09/work-extra-during-strike-auto-workers-say-eight-and-skate

Eight and Skate has already started to work; the Buffalo Ford plant can no longer run its normal weekend shifts because workers are refusing to put in voluntary overtime. Of course, bosses will strike back: the next step will be forced overtime, which will lead to the unsafe conditions that unionized workers are contractually obliged to call paid work-stoppages over, shutting down operations without touching the strike fund.

What's more, car bosses can't just halt safety stoppages or change the rules on overtime; per the UAW's last contract, bosses are required to bargain on changes to overtime rules:

https://uaw.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Working-Without-Contract-FAQ-FINAL-2.pdf

Car bosses have become lazily dependent on overtime. At GM's "highly profitable" SUV factory in Arlington, TX, normal production runs a six-days, 24 hours per day. Workers typically work five eight-hour days and nine hours on Saturdays. That's been the status quo for 11 years, but when bosses circulated the usual overtime signup sheet last week, every worker wrote "a big fat NO" next to their names.

Writing for The American Prospect, David Dayen points out that this overtime addiction puts a new complexion on the much-hyped workerpocalypse that EVs will supposedly bring about. EVs are much simpler to build than conventional cars, the argument goes, so a US transition to EVs will throw many autoworkers out of work:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-20-big-threes-labor-shortages-uaw/

But the reality is that most autoworkers are doing one and a half jobs already. Reducing the "workforce" by a third could leave all these workers with their existing jobs, and the 40-hour workweek that their forebears fought for at GM inn 1945/46. Add to that the additional workers needed to make batteries, build and maintain charging infrastructure, and so on, and there's no reason to think that EVs will weaken autoworker power.

And as Dayen points out, this overtime addiction isn't limited to cars. It's also endemic to the entertainment industry, where writers' "mini rooms" and other forms of chronic understaffing are used to keep workforces at a skeleton crew, even when the overtime costs more than hiring new workers.

Bosses call themselves job creators, but they have a relentless drive to destroy jobs. If there's one thing bosses hate, it's paying workers – hence all the hype about AI and automation. The stories about looming AI-driven mass unemployment are fairy tales, but they're tailor made for financiers who get alarming, life-threatening priapism at the though of firing us all and replacing us with shell-scripts:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This is why Republican "workerism" rings so hollow. Trump's GOP talks a big game about protecting "workers" (by which they mean anglo men) from immigrants and "woke captialism," but they have nothing to say about protecting workers from bosses and bankers who see every dime a worker gets as misappropriated from their dividend.

Unsurprisingly, conservative message-discipline sucks. As Luke Savage writes in Jacobin, for every mealymouthed Josh Hawley mouthing talking points that "support workers" by blaming China and Joe Biden for the Big Three's greed, there's a Tim Scott, saying the quiet part aloud:

https://jacobin.com/2023/09/republicans-uaw-strike-hawley-trump-scott/

Quoth Senator Scott: "I think Ronald Reagan gave us a great example when federal employees decided they were going to strike. He said, you strike, you’re fired. Simple concept to me. To the extent that we can use that once again, absolutely":

https://twitter.com/American_Bridge/status/1704136706574741988

The GOP's workerism is a tissue-thin fake. They can never and will never support real worker power. That creates an opportunity for Biden and Democrats to seize:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

Reversing two generations of anti-worker politics is a marathon, not a sprint. The strikes are going to run for months, even years. Every worker will be called upon to support their striking siblings, every day. We can do it. Solidarity now. Solidarity forever.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/21/eight-and-skate/#strike-to-rule

[granolawriting]

A proper fall◞♡

pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader

Summary: A slow night ignites when Joel brings a suprise of pumpkins spotted on his way home from work to your doorstep. what starts as a nice activity with you and him lit by the illumination of the TV and of small tea candles, delves into something a bit more about you, and less about pumpkins.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (25yrs), he has grey hair so hes about that old, he also has long hair because I say so, breif praise kink, strong Joel picks you up, pet names (darling, sweetheart), crazy tension, the reader is a bit of a stalker, Joel teaches you how to cut a pumpkin (visual learner ;))

word count: 2.8k

general masterlist . kink*tober masterlist

A/N: welcome to the first day of kink*tober! Hope this is a good way to start it off, and enjoy ;)

Night falls upon an evening of autumn that crept up upon you as though there was no summer in between them. As the beginning of October rears its head, and you watch the symptoms of the cold brush against the warm tones of trees once vibrant and green, their remnants finding final resting place within the sidewalks at which you walk and the streets you drive. Fall reminded you of times since past, of family and festivities, childlike whimsy watching as though the monsters on TV were specially curated for your greatest fright. There's something nostalgic about this time of year, however with old love comes a desire to thrust it into the new by sharing it with those you love and care for. A yearning you've held as you’ve grown older as most definitely as you lived alone. 

The familiar tune of Joel's tires drives up onto the gravel to the house adjacent from yours. Joel, your neighbor, your sometimes liquor handler, and the incessant object of your unrequited affection. He was an older man in contrast to you, aged about 25 years your senior he was a reliable man for about anything an old man could provide. From home repairs to car leaks he's about the only person in this freshly moved into town that feels as though he is genuine with you. And as you hear the parking of tires scratch against the small stones, it cues to you a glimpse at him was within your reach. Every moment you could you were compelled to steal glances at him, with a window facing the front end of his home you were able to gaze upon him twice a day if you were lucky. Once when he went to work and once when he went home. Though some nights you find him sat on a chair outside on his property, a face illuminated by a light attached to his porch a sweet sound of hums and plucking of strings filled your senses as a dimly lit guitar played a melody unfamiliar to you by origin but soaked in with every ounce of love by the way he rendered it with his own hands. 

Your eyes trace his movements as he hops out of his truck, a routine motion of heavy steps does he do something uncharacteristic-- reaching to the back of his truck. Usually there was nothing left of the cargo stored in his truck for work by day's end, and anything he bought often was small enough to fit in his passenger. By a sick twist of stalking tendencies you found yourself undeniably intrigued in this minute break in routine. But as he reveals what is shadowed by the walls of the truck's rear it has you make a double take. Pumpkins? 

Two pumpkins, one thrusted under each crook of his arm to carry with the strength of his bicep and the careful placement of fingers to keep it in place. And as he walks that gravel road you see him not turn around to meet his own front door, but as his boots hit the sidewalk it dawns on you that he is going to your own door. 

You panic, going into a very forced casual relaxation as you await his knock, only mere seconds to play the act of surprise as though you had not watched him from the moment his car arrived in his lot. 

Knock knock. 

Fuck. fuck uh, shit uh fuck well how long does it take for someone to casually get up to get the door how many steps uh 

You sprint to your couch and start tracing steps to the door with perfectly calculated casualty to them, no anticipation to be perceived in the gracefulness of tense legs and unnatural motion wading one step closer to the door. 

Knock knock knock 

Oh shit. That was with his boot maybe? Fuck I took too long what if they drop and break and 

Abandoning all previous methods of casualty you find yourself lunging for the door. 

“Took ya’ long enough.” 

God. His smile was teasing, a little cock in his hip to hold up a slipping pumpkin that gave him an air of tease that when complimented by a southern drawl and a long days of work, made your knees grow weak at the sight of him. 

“Ya’ just gonna stand there or can I put these things somewhere ‘fore they break on us?” 

You snap out of your gaze to usher him in; 

“Oh, oh of course I'm so sorry you can put them on the kitchen counter.” 

And as he passes you, the musk of coffee, tobacco, and sawdust wafts past you in a scent coated by recently applied cologne that makes your eyes follow him as his back faces you and he travels deeper within your home. You swiftly close the door behind him and follow, watching the way he walked, the sway of his body ever so slightly, the sound of his boots against your wooden floors, the broadness of his back accentuated by the posture he found himself in. he was so much larger than you he almost dwarfed you in comparison. And as you remember the way he looked moments before, with rolled up sleeves that showed flexed forearms before you, you thought that he was absolutely perfect. 

“What are these even doing here Joel?” 

You ask in a playful tone as you trail behind him, hoping that whatever he had in mind involved him staying there. 

He stands with a hip cocked on the side of your counter as the two pumpkins sit there, arms crossed watching as you speak. The dim light of the lower setting of your home lighting casts a soft shadow on his tanned face, to complement the fall of gray and black hair right above his eyes. 

“Well, saw em’ for sale on my way home ‘n thought you’d like one. It's that, buy one get one, thought you’d wanna cut em’ up fer your fancy little decorations.” 

By “fancy little decorations” he means a welcome mat from michaels, that adorned a little skull over the ‘O’. 

Joel begins to make his way towards the door he’d just come out of, passing you makes your heart sink. 

“Well, I best be gettin’ out of ya hair, hope you like em’.” 

But as his kind smile meets your eyes and a slightly frowned mouth, impulse overtakes you to grab onto a bicep clothed in dark plaid that makes him stop in his tracks. 

“No, uh. How about you help me out? We can cut one up each. If, you don't have anything going on. It's fine if you do. I was just watching a movie.” 

It comes flowing out of you without thinking, but you couldn't let yourself forsake this kind of opportunity just by staying quiet. 

He turns his head to look at you, eyes lingering on the hand holding his arm for a moment. 

“Oh- I'm sorry.” 

You lower your hand. 

His eyes shift to your own, and a shock of electricity runs through you that stuns you-- as his eyes meet yours there's something different about them. His eyelids hood his dark brown eyes with a bit more intensity than you’re used to, a smile creeps on his lips that has the playfulness you are used to, but with a tinge of something inexplicable within the formation of it. He turns to face you, shadowing you as his broad frame overpowers yours, he looks down upon you as he speaks. 

“No worries darlin’, and I ain’t got nothing to do anyways, I don't mind helpin’ out with some carving. Cant promise i'm any good at it though, aint done it since my girl was young.” 

A spark of joy lights up your face, creating a stretch of lips into a smile that reaches cheek to cheek in positive response to your leap of faith. Eyes darting around to combat his unwavering gaze upon you that if any more attention were to be paid to his gesture you would be unable to have enough self control to pull yourself away from his trance.

 He is so effortlessly enchanting.

“Oh! Oh that's okay. I don't quite know how to do it either. I’ll get us some knives, and some markers for the outline of the face. Just- give me a second.” 

Scrambling around to the drawer of your kitchen that houses all miscellaneous amenities from lighters to thumbtacks, you fish around for a black sharpie and some leftover tealights from an old project you did for decor. You feel Joel's eyes follow your movement as he situated himself on the chair just opposite of the counter to you where there was a small slab of marble sticking out for any who wish to use that as means for dining instead of a proper table. And for you in this moment it meant close proximity with a certain Joel Miller who was a picturesque of your very dream, who you’d found a friend within. your back turns to him to find the silverware that bear sharp enough blade to cut through ripe pumpkin, you know his eyes have yet to leave you. 

The only noise to fill the room within brief moments of shuffling and the clanging of metal against metal is the low hum of your speakers that plays a rerun of old halloween movies along its channel. It's something you allowed to run within your house whether you were watching it or not, it just provides a means for a more seasonal white noise to your everyday. 

“Okay, i’ve got everything!” 

You turn to him with cheery demeanor as your findings are sprawled out neatly upon the counter for his proper check. And with a kind thumbs up and a smile he lifts himself up from the chair to meet your right as he readied his own pumpkin for its demise. 

Sharply does his knife sink its way into the pumpkins top, sawing at its close stem with furrowed brow and concentrated intent with every flex of his hands on the blade's handle. You watch him for a moment as his hair falls in front of his face ever so slightly, burning urge wells up inside of you to bring it out of his face, but you fear to test your luck. Instead you resort to cutting open your own, but with much less elegance as he does. The jagged cuts of the blade against raw vegetable leave its circle around the top growing to be a much more unrecognizable shape, as the cuts of your blade are often redirected every half of the slice. As Joel finishes up his own work, he checks on your progress to find disarray. 

“Oh darlin’ now, now let me help you. What the hell are ya even doing?” 

Curious tone coats a laugh that escapes him as he moves himself closer to you, smoothly moving himself behind you to cup your body with his own, his hand finds yours as the fingers gripping the blade weaken at the feeling of calloused fingertips grazing over the notches of your fingers. You feel his warmth behind you, he's left only a sliver of room between his body and your own, though the intensity felt between yours and his bodies felt as though there was nothing between them at all. And the part of his body that did touch you felt like every nerve you had in your body was directed to that place. The cocked elbow of your right hand is completely engulfed by the muscled emulation of the man behind you. Feeling his bicep strain to fall in the same position you did, as means to merely grip onto your hand. You turn your face to the right of you to look at him once more, only to be greeted with his own to be mere inches away from your own as he leaned over your shoulder. His eyes catch yours, you watch as they flicker up and down your face with a semblance of shock that was a foreign look upon his stern and confident usual demeanor. 

A moment passes as you two take each other in, a moment too long. But soon after he lets out a breathy laugh, the feeling of his breath coated your face, lingering on your lips as he awkwardly smiled. He turns his face back to the pumpkin you had been meaning to cut.

“Now, you’re not properly doin it with the right motion. You’ve gotta dig deep, ya see?” 

He guides your hand out of the jagged lines of the interior, and moves your blade to an untouched part of its top. You feel the grip of his hand engulf yours, and he steadies his forearm on your own to push down the first cut within it. And slowly with a heavy-gripped explanation, he shows you slice for slice how to properly do it. 

“I’ll let ya try the last cut. See if ya learned anythin’ or if i’d just done it for ya.” 

His body lets up from yours with a moment's hesitation, a feeling of coldness wafts over exposed skin that sinks deep within your core-- your body yearned for his even greater now that it had just a taste of what it felt like to be near him. To be overwhelmed with his scent, to hear the low hum of his voice directly within your ear. 

You cut the final piece with decent enough elegance for celebration. Throwing hands up in the air after dropping the knife you find a melodramatic expression of victory only fitting to cut the air of tension that surrounded you two. But as your bout of over exaggerated victory overtook your senses, you latch arms around his high shoulders in expression of said joy. But as the light above you illuminates his face, he seems taken aback. His eyes look needy, lit up by the white light of your kitchen's main light source. You kept hands wrapped around his neck for a moment longer as you took in the look upon his face. It looked longingly, lips slightly parted and pink, your eyes both meet and you feel your world go silent. 

“Ah, my bad i'm getting ahead of myself-”

You lower yourself off his neck but you feel rough hands keep you in by the waist. your top having ridden up your stomach to reach his neck you felt as his fingers gripped onto bare skin once cold now feeling like a thousand suns piercing every nerve in your body. You felt weak at the knees. 

“No worries sweetheart.” 

His voice grew darker. And he looks at you with a smile laced with something you’ve never seen on him before, pure desire. 

“Mind if i'm real with ya for a moment?” 

He waits for a response, and a nod from you suffices. 

“Now, I won’t let ya play dumb anymore. You don't think I see ya watchin me? Feel your eyes on me when I'm comin’ home? Even when I'm here fixin things for ya, you can't take yer eyes off me darlin’. And I've got to say I'm flattered, ain't every day a pretty girl like you takes interest in a old man like me. But i've got to say i'm bout’ tired pretending, what do you say mm?” 

The taunting hum at the end of his words vibrates against you as though a simple gust of wind against your face could set your whole body aflame. You’re at a loss for words, feeling your body engulfed in heat as it sets in what he’s just said. The feeling of the words vibrates throughout your whole body, feeling yourself soak at even the implication of his lips upon yours. You look at his eyes hooded by desire, feeling his thumb trace your lower back barely above the waistband of your shorts as he begins to toy with you ever so slightly. 

“I need a yes or no darlin’.” 

“Y..yes. Please Joel” 

“Good girl.” 

His lips slam against yours at the simplest of begging, the need for you superseding any sort of joy he got from watching you beg for him. He craved you, for much longer than you could have ever accounted for. You could tell by the touch of your lips, the desperation of its tongue as it tasted every bit of your mouth as though it had been starved. A hand traces your body in such intent it's as if he had already mapped out every crevasse and indentation of your body and only now is able to touch what it's yearned for for so long. Tangled fingers push his hair back from his face as you switch between holding his jaw and gripping at his hair, his own fingers snaking their way down to your thighs, lifting you up onto the empty counter space within your kitchen and your hands fell to the back of cold marble that contrasted with your heated skin. And as Joel continued to worship your body with his lips, you could still hear the muted screams of a horror film playing as your own began to meld with it.

[idsb]

everything always falls together just in time for it to fall apart.

I couldn't wait to leave for 6 weeks. and, as John green once tackily said, 'falling in love is like falling asleep. slowly, and then all at once'. it all clicked into place. and the reasons why I have to leave, too, have all clicked into place: I hate my job. Now I've quit my job. Taylor concert in Melbourne, need to be in Melbourne. boyfriend flying into Sydney, need to pick him up in Sydney on the way down. 2 favorite Aussie bands at a music festival hours and hours' drive into the middle of nowhere; need my car to get there. Got to drive from QLD to Sydney to Melb. Housemate is leaving to go to England next week anyway, a lot of what I like about it here will be gone. Well, now I've found more things to like. Well, now the landlord is selling the house. Well, housemates are getting a new place together but I've still got all the other things that render me staying impossible. Well, now there's a cyclone headed straight for this region that I've got to outrun. Now there's a girl I know who wants a ride south who will help me with gas when I'm financially stressed. Time to go. Now.

There is no other answer but to leave. One of my housemates is a big believer in the power of the universe and when it wants you to do things. And yet, I wish I could stand here and brace myself against the gale force winds of the cyclone, feet cemented to the earth, and stay. I keep thinking, "if it wasn't for this I would stay", "if it wasn't for this I would stay" and before I've known it, "this" is literally every single factor that could possibly be worth considering except for where my heart is. I think it through and I know it's true: I came to Australia to see Taylor and I'd die without doing so. My boyfriend is flying in and I need to see him, and the impending cyclone would keep us apart his entire trip here if I don't leave to meet him; he couldn't fly up and I couldn't drive down any later than tomorrow. He wants to see the Great Ocean Road, I need my car in Victoria for the music festival. 2/3 of the people I love here are leaving and if I stay it won't be the same anyway; it won't be worth missing everything else for.

But my heart is tethered to the one street in town and the 2 palm trees on the beach that are beautiful to sit under on a sunny day, and to the girl at the boba tea spot who always looks so happy to see me and the sweet woman who owns the coffee shop I frequent, and the grass on the great lawn overlooking the turquoise sea and the memories of the books I've read in the marina, and the breakfasts I've eaten and taken for granted on the deck in the morning light filtered through the bamboo and birds of paradise plants. All the things that were, for the most fleeting moment, simple things about my home. My day to day life. Only about 2 weeks ago did I realize how extraordinary these things were compared to what my life in New York looked like. The novelty of the turquoise water and staring out at the sun glistening off the ships and the beach a 2 minute drive away and the most loving, maybe closest friends I've ever had living in my home; waiting for me to cook dinner and debrief the day over wine every single day. Taking an electric scooter around when I can't drive. the orange flowers that hang over the driveway. For these two weeks I have looked at everything with the sense of nostalgia and wonderment I will one day look back on it with, so as to not look back and think about how I didn't appreciate it.

I still don't think I appreciated it. How could someone ever live in an affordable and wonderfully furnished house 2 minutes from the beach and want to leave? With good coffee and colorful flowers and an ocean the temperature of a heated pool. I know there are reasons why I did, but now that the "nostalgia" I feel will become the present and not the future in just 24 hours, I feel sick to my stomach. Katie asked me if I'd packed yet and the thought of leaving this room empty never to see it again left me sick to my stomach. Another chapter of my life coming to an abrupt halt. This one, like the sun breaking through in the middle of an endless rainstorm. And just as you're reveling in the glory of the daylight, the clouds roll back in. They go on as far as the eye can see.

I don't know if I will ever find anything like this again in the whole time I am alive. Struggle has presided over my entire time in Australia thus far, and struggle is all I see on the horizon as I am unsure where I will go next in this country, how I will earn money, or where I will live. I am dreading seeing my boyfriend and cannot even place excitement for it in my brain, because it means I will be gone from here and back into the storm of uncertainty and all the bad things this country has brought me. The past few weeks in this place were the rainbow filled eye of a terrible cyclone, one far bigger than the one that is currently stampeding towards this place.

I do not want to go back to the rain.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s 2023 Qixi Event Offline Call + In-game Call + Mail

⌚ No spoiler warning since global server doesn’t get these anyways ⌚

[Translation under the cut]

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

[Anika’s Notes]: Honestly, I’d rather you guys read my twitter thread for this since I added many translation notes I won’t be adding here haha: ♡♡

—

It’s me, Victor. I’ve found Pudding.

Not sure when, but he somehow crawled into the suitcase, and now came out on his own after waking up from his nap.

Hm, it’s the suitcase we were planning to take to the desert.

Yep, thankfully, although he flipped over the contents inside and caused a mess, the gastronomic map and camping equipment a certain someone had placed in there earlier are intact. So your plans for enjoying barbecue and stargazing won’t be compromised.

The red dress you wanted to wear for taking pictures is also in there. And all those jingling accessories that were tangled together— I’ve properly sorted them out for you.

However, there are now more of Pudding’s toys in the suitcase… and he’s still spinning around the area of the suitcase.

[Pudding meowing adorably ~pitifully~]

He seems to be stating explicitly that he wants to join us for the Qixi Festival.

Whether to bring him along with us or not, let’s decide when you come back.

—

【In-game Call】

Victor: Have you left the house yet?

MC: Of course, and I’m already in the car. How about you? Have you wrapped up the meeting?

Victor: Yep, but I also found a certain someone’s new masterpiece on my office desk, and I’m still finding it a challenge to figure out what the original inspiration is.

MC: …you really can’t tell? It’s obviously a cup!

Victor: Sure enough, your self-confidence is not to be underestimated.

Victor: It resembles a vase, it resembles a spray bottle–– but it just doesn’t look like a cup.

MC: Even if it doesn’t look like a cup, the pattern drawn on the surface should still be identifiable, no?

Victor: Your artistic style has always been abstract, and the tree branch next to the chestnut is somewhat satisfactory.

MC: …the paintings on the cup are clearly several skillfully rendered fruits nestled within the grass. It’s quite easily distinguishable.

Victor: Mhm, the blackish blob is indeed “easily distinguishable.”

Victor: Speaking of which, a certain someone mentioned wanting to try out a pottery workshop last month. It turns out she was already preparing this gift back then.

MC: Hehe, the most important value of a gift lies in the sentiments behind it. I’m sure CEO Victor shares the same feelings, doesn’t he?

MC: So, will my gift be a sumptuous feast, or some sort of handmade craft like the one I gave you?

Victor: Isn’t a certain someone usually filled with all sorts of whimsical ideas?

Victor: How come you’re being so restrained during a crucial matter like this?

MC: …! Seeing how you are boasting like this, aren’t you afraid of potentially not living up to my expectations when the time comes?

Victor: I understand the thoughts of a certain dummy better than anyone.

Victor: Even if your expectations are sky-high, I’m confident I can have you giggling all night long while hugging your gift.

MC: Humph, if you can’t achieve this result, then will CEO Victor step in for the gift and let me hug him all night long instead?

Victor: You sure know how to make demands.

Victor: Nonetheless, all of this is contingent on you not being late. Otherwise, it’ll be like fetching water with a bamboo basket – all in vain.

—

[Tidbits]: the word cup (杯子) actually has the similar pronunciation to 辈子 (meaning one’s entire life). So, it’s considered a romantic gift among couples to express their emotions of being together for a lifetime~

【Mail】

“Using handmade offerings to pray for ‘predestined love and marriage’ is somewhat elusive. The wish to never be separated— just expressing it to me like this is enough.”

—

[theladyofbloodshed]

Neris Christmas - Hallmark Movie AU

Part Two of Four

Managing by the dim light of an encroaching sunrise and the brightness of her laptop up to its max, Nesta furiously replied to the flurry of emails that had arrived in the night. It wasn’t just emails that had come either, a new layer of snow had settled outside as deep as her shins, dashing any hopes of a quick getaway in her car. She was a good driver. When there was no snow. Snow rendered her useless. Still, Nesta had enough work to remained snowed under in more than the physical sense.

She finished hashing out a vague festive message to her colleagues that she barely knew with a bad clipart Santa at the bottom. It seemed to be the general thing to do; there had been enough emails gushing over the holidays from her colleagues already. Any attempts to socialise were dashed by Nesta. She had never been to a single Christmas party or after-work drinks and had never missed out by not attending.

‘Will you stop that damn rattling,’ came an irate voice muffled against the pink unicorn-patterned pillow.

Eris had slunk in at some point in the early hours when she was dead to the world. If she hadn’t been then Nesta would have forced him back onto the couch.

‘It’s my nails on the keyboard,’ she muttered, turning back to the screen to examine a report.

Eris hauled the quilt over his head. ‘It’s no wonder you’re single, bringing the damn laptop to bed.’

‘The wifi is so awful that it’s the only place I can get a decent enough signal.’

The sound of chatter downstairs lured Nesta out, leaving Eris still buried beneath Lucy’s blankets. She followed the sounds of Elain humming to a festive song while Jos prattled away about how he wanted to spend the day. She heard Lucien making silly noises and the soft laughter of his daughter.

It was nice in a way to have something important to care for, two little somethings. It had been a shock for Nesta when Elain announced that she and Graysen had split after nearly five years – and that she was dating a new man. They’d got engaged quickly, married soon after, and then her stomach was rounded with child within four months of introducing him. Her sister was still so young. As was Feyre. Sometimes Nesta felt like an old spinster, but she wasn’t yet thirty – her sisters had just got started young.

‘We can still invite them,’ came Elain’s response.

Jos let out a huff. ‘But they never come. They’re always late for birthdays and sit on their phones and he promised to come to my show last summer but missed it.’

‘You know they like to be left on Mount Crumpit,’ Lucien replied.

At that, Nesta stopped on the final stair, listening in keenly. She recognised the name of the mountain from somewhere.

‘Then we must invite them down for some holiday cheer, mustn’t we, my love?’

At the sound of a kiss, Jos made a retching sound.

‘How can anybody hate Christmas?’ The boy mused.

With a jolt, Nesta realised her nephew was talking about her – and Eris. Eris who had missed Jos’ starring role in the summer play in his grade. She’d been guilty of similar.

‘It could be that their heads aren’t screwed on just right. It could be, perhaps, that their shoes are too tight.’

‘Dad,’ Jos groaned.

Nesta stood, a frown pressing down her brows at the bottom of the stairs, listening to Lucien recite familiar poetry.

‘But I think the most likely reason of all, may be that their hearts are two sizes too small.’

There was a snickering of laughter amongst the groaning, but Nesta turned to creep quietly back up the uneven stairs.

She caught Eris in a state of nakedness. ‘Can’t you warn me?’

He was in boxers at least, but Nesta glimpsed more of his body than she ever planned to.

‘You could knock.’

With a huff, she slumped onto the bed, careful not to touch any of that pale skin on display in front of her. He had more muscles than she thought buried beneath those finely tailored suits. Eris tugged on a black turtleneck, too formal for a cheery family gathering.

‘They think we’re grinches.’

‘Who?’

‘The Griswold family downstairs.’ Nesta crossed her arms. It shouldn’t have mattered. She did hate Christmas. She’d made no secret of telling people of that fact.

‘Who?’ Eris repeated.

‘National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. One movie I do know.’

Realisation dawned on Eris. ‘Good. Maybe they’ll leave me alone now and I can get back to my work.’

Time was the most precious gift of all. Her mother might have been a cold-hearted wretch most of the time, but once she had gone completely, Nesta would have given anything for more time with her. Lucy and Jos were bigger every time she saw them. They were at the age where they still loved their absent aunt and looked forward to her sparse visits. Time would trickle away quickly. These moments ought to have been precious to Nesta. One day, she might look back and wish she had that squandered time with them again.

‘We’ll be visited by three spirits tonight if we don’t change our ways.’

‘I’ll ask them if they can stop you snoring. It was so loud, I debated going back downstairs.’

‘Eris,’ she hissed, swiping at him with a pillow. ‘I have one other sister and she’ll end up as the favourite auntie. How many brothers do you have? Do you want to be the least favourite uncle? Do you want us to be like Scooge McDuck?’

Eris held out a hand to stop her rant. ‘I’m concerned you believe Scrooge McDuck is the origin of the character.’

‘Will you stop being so damn pretentious?’ Nesta massaged her temples. ‘I know Scrooge is from the Muppets. They’re little kids. Of course, they like Christmas. They get pumped full of sugar and can’t feel the cold and everybody brings them presents. But I don’t want them to think we are not nice people. I mean, I am a nice person, I’m not completely sold on you.’

‘I have a feeling you’re not a morning person.’ Eris sat down on the bed opposite her, fully clothed at last, but the gap was so small that his legs wedged into it. ‘Fine. If I can have two or three solid hours tonight of work then I can be free today to do Christmas things.’

He waved his hand for those final two words as if he wasn’t quite sure what they entailed. Not that Nesta really knew either. Her family hadn’t had any Christmas traditions beyond a meal that was pre-cooked and delivered to their door.

In the kitchen, the Vanserra family were all still puffy-eyed and pyjama-wearing. Elain had a cup of coffee clutched in her hand, leaning against the kitchen side while the children made a mess of their cereal. Lucien washed up at the sink, singing along to the awful, warbling Christmas song blaring from the radio.

‘Ho, ho, ho! It’s Christmas time!’

The children stared up at Nesta, their spoons hovering inches from their mouth. Lucien stifled a laugh, elbows deep in bubbles.

Elain gave a strange sort of frown. ‘Are you alright?’

 ‘I told you that was a stupid thing to say,’ she hissed, elbowing Eris in the ribs.

‘Then why did you insist on saying it anyway?’

Face hot, Nesta slid into a chair at the table.

‘Do you want cereal, Nesta?’

‘I don’t eat breakfast.’

Lucy made a small gasping sound. Her brother explained, ‘mom says that’s bad for you.’

‘Yeah, Nesta. Mom says that’s bad for you,’ Eris smirked, reaching past Elain’s head for a bowl.

He picked muesli. The most boring cereal known to man. All cereal was boring, Nesta thought. She preferred her breakfast to be boiling hot and in a disposable cup.

‘What’s on the agenda today then?’ Nesta rubbed her hands together.

Lucien joined them at the table, pulling his little girl onto his lap to have a seat. It was an ease which Nesta longed to have with a child. With anybody really. She put a chubby little hand on the scar on his face and kissed it, followed by a “love you dada”. It was unprompted, but beautiful. Nesta couldn’t recall the last time anybody had touched her with any sort of feeling.

‘There’s an ice-skating rink in the park so we planned to head there. There’s also a fun fair in town but we might come back early to bake cookies ready for Santa coming tonight.’

At the mention of the big man, the children broke into riotous excitement.

‘Sounds great. Do you mind if we come along?’

All of their eyes widened in shock – and Nesta felt horrific that the suggestion of joining them warranted that reaction.

‘You never come,’ said Jos accusingly. ‘You promised to come to my soccer match and didn’t. And Eris said he’d come to the show and didn’t. And Lucy had a dance recital-.’

‘Alright, Jos.’ Elain pacified him with a gentle stroke of his hair.

‘It’s Christmas,’ Lucien said, gesturing round the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eris inwardly recoil at that comment.

They bundled up from the cold in anticipation for a day spent outdoors. Her boots had never seen actual snow. They’d existed in her wardrobe for a few years though. It never got cold enough in the city to need them. Snow melted as quickly as it fell. She had a scarf and a thick enough coat. That ought to do it.

Nesta couldn’t see the children through their layers. Lucy lay on the floor huffing and panting that she was too hot while they all waited for Elain and Eris.

‘He’ll be gazing at his reflection in the mirror,’ supplied Lucien.

Finally, when they were all ready to go, they had to split into two cars to make the journey.

‘Mine’s a block away. Some idiot has parked right in front of your car too.’

‘That idiot would be me,’ answered Eris, closing the front door with a flourish behind him. ‘Shotgun, Nesta?’

They watched as Lucien and Elain buckled their children into car seats. Eris, of course, had an electric vehicle that was utterly pristine inside. No coffee cups to be found. He claimed he didn’t drink coffee either.

‘Now, you two will actually meet us there, won’t you?’ Lucien asked. ‘You’re not just going to go back into the house on your laptops once we’ve gone?’

‘Please don’t,’ pleaded Elain. She pointed towards the car window where Jos sat.

Somehow disappointing her nephew was the worst crime imaginable to Nesta. Especially at Christmas. Her heart would definitely have to be two sizes too small to deliberately upset a seven-year-old over the holidays.

The town was exactly as quaint as Nesta expected. If it was possible to be made out of gingerbread then it would have been. Caterpillars of snow sat on every roof top. Lights glittered amongst the frost. It was small enough to recognise most people. On each corner, Nesta saw neighbours waving to each other or stopping to chat.

‘This is a nightmare.’

‘Not a fan of the suburbs?’ Eris chuckled. He was a good driver, Nesta would give him that. She’d have been gripping the steering wheel and taking each corner at a couple of miles an hour, but Eris drove carefully and calmly. ‘No dating apps here. They all know each other.’

‘Are you resorting to dating apps to find a girlfriend?’

‘Open yours and find out,’ he sniped back.

She turned back to the window as they passed an enormous tree bedecked with baubles and multi-coloured fairy lights. A choir of children sang beside it to a decent sized crowd.

‘Sickening.’

‘What do you have against Christmas?’ Nesta pressed.

‘People get themselves into debt, spending money they don’t have trying to create a Christmas that only exists in films. It’s not worth the effort or the stress of trying to live up to expectation.’

‘That’s very bleak,’ she replied. ‘What is it you do for a living?’

A blush crept up Eris’ neck as he gave a shrug that tried too hard to be casual. ‘I work in the law department of a collection agency.’

She stared at this handsome, wealthy man with distaste. ‘You must love this time of year then. That’s when you have more clients to collect from.’

‘I hate it,’ Eris admitted. ‘I studied law to make a difference and I’m stuck in a job where I ruin people’s lives. I have to tell a family that I’m taking away all of their lovely, new presents, plus their car, because mommy and daddy spent money they didn’t have and now they owe us. Or they owe us too much and they’ll be going to jail if it’s not borrowed from elsewhere forcing them further into debt. I’m hated for their mistakes.’ He pulled into the busy lot, searching for a space. ‘Take Lucien and Elain. They don’t have money to be wasting on ice skating. The kids would survive without it.’

Yes, they would. But just having enough to survive wasn’t really a life.

When the money dried up, Nesta was faced with no college fund, no opportunity, and no future. She’d grafted day and night, winning scholarship after scholarship. She lived off no sleep, bending her back to load herself up with extra-curriculars and things that would make her college application shine. And it hadn’t stopped there. All through college she’d worked any job she could get. She had tutored, walked dogs, cleaned, waitressed, wrote essays with a head-set on talking old people through their mobile banking apps, bar-tended, and even spent two days washing cars. She was frugal with her money even now, only spending when she had to. An absence of money in childhood never really left her.

Nesta had got to where she was through sheer hard work and determination. Yes, it annoyed her that Feyre had met a rich man and never needed to work hard a day in her life. Yes, it annoyed her that Elain had met a poor man and didn’t mind that she’d never have much money. Did she want her sisters to suffer the way she had? No. Nesta didn’t know what she wanted exactly. An acknowledgement that she’d done it all on her own, maybe.

‘They refuse any money I send them,’ she said dejectedly.

Nesta had got herself to a place where she could help her sisters financially. Feyre didn’t need it. Elain did. She’d sent a cheque one Christmas that was promptly sent back with a letter that said they’d rather have her company than her money. The next year, the next cheque wasn’t sent back, but it wasn’t cashed either. One year, she’d even left an envelope of cash on the bed, but it was given back to her on her birthday in the Spring.

‘Me too. All Lucien needs to do is apologise to my father and he’s back in the trust.’

‘Why won’t he?’

‘Because my father is a piece of crap and Lucien is finally free of him. He puts pride ahead of wealth.’ The car came to a stop in the space. They’d picked the spot behind the Vanserra car. Two children waved excitedly from the rear window once they’d spotted Nesta. The door opened for her. ‘After you, m’lady.’  

The children tore off to the ice rink. Lucien was happy to go on there with them and he managed to rope in his brother who had the co-ordination of a new born fawn on the ice. Nesta huddled close to her sister watching them perform hesitant loops of the rink.

‘Lucy starts school in January, doesn’t she?’

It was either delight or shock from Elain that Nesta had remembered a basic fact. ‘Yes. I will miss her so much in the days.’

‘But isn’t she in day care now?’

Elain shook her head, her phone brandished towards the rink as Jos came barrelling by clinging onto Lucien’s hand. ‘No. I don’t work. I stopped working a few years ago. I told you this, Nesta.’

Nesta had no recollection of the conversation. Likely it had happened but Nesta had a million other things on her mind. It was no wonder that they struggled for money with one income keeping them afloat.

‘Emmeline Pankhurst would be rolling in her grave,’ she mused. ‘But you trained to be a florist. That was your dream.’

‘Yeah. But they grow up so fast and I was missing so many moments with them. I’ll go back to it when they’re a bit bigger. I still garden and I’m baking a lot for neighbours and things.’

‘How much do you charge?’

Elain tittered. ‘Nesta, I don’t charge my neighbours. I just make them cakes because it’s a nice thing to do. We’re all friends around the neighbourhood. Life’s not about amassing as much money as possible. I could work and we’d have a bit extra but I’d spend money on sending them to a child minder before and after school. I’d see them for an hour to feed them and put them to bed. It’s not a life I want. I don’t want to miss out on all of these special moments. Lucien hates how much he has to miss out on.’

For a long while, Nesta said nothing. She didn’t know what to say. She’d worked so hard to climb the ladder of success. It would feel like throwing it away. Any pause interrupted momentum and others would sneak their way ahead of her.

Elain lay a hand on her shoulder then said she was going onto the ice. Nesta saw the sheer delight from her children as their mom joined them in the rink. It wasn’t jealously that bubbled up inside but maybe longing. Nobody was ever excited to see her. She was always the first person into the office and last to leave. Nobody waited up for her at home except the Roomba when it got trapped somewhere.

All around them in the park were happy families building snowmen or skating, giddy couples holding hands or settling with a hot chocolate beneath the wooden canopy. Maybe Lucien was right. Maybe her heart was two sizes too small.

A man came to an ungainly stop in front of her. He crashed into the boards then clung to the rail.

‘Not joining us?’

‘You’re doing such an excellent job. I’d be afraid to be shown up by your skill.’

Eris swiped a handful of snow at her. ‘I don’t know how I haven’t broken an ankle yet.’

‘There’s still time,’ Nesta teased, crossing her fingers.

‘If I die on the ice, would you mourn me?’

‘I’d push the two beds together and have a double tonight.’

Without explanation, Eris removed his gloves and slipped them onto Nesta’s red hands. The soft material inside was already warming her cold, painful fingers.

‘Thank you.’

‘You look miserable here alone. Come and join us. Fall on your ass with me.’

She pressed a hand over her heart. ‘I have never had such a romantic offer before.’

Eris clung to the railing as he dragged himself near to the entrance, waiting for Nesta to change her shoes. The clunky, plastic skates did nothing for her outfit.

The first steps onto the ice were tentative. She gripped the rail, afraid to move, until Eris prised one of her hands away, into his own and guided her to stand upright.

‘Don’t you drag me down.’

Eris stared at her incredulously. ‘You’re worse than me. Do you need one of those penguins?’

Even Lucy was managing without one. Only the smallest children were skidding a few feet whilst clinging onto a gaudy penguin that had seen better days.

‘You’ll have to be my penguin.’

The Vanserras were on the other side of the ice, posing for a family picture taken by a stranger. The distance seemed enormous, but somehow they shuffled their way across the centre to get to them. The same joy that was given to Elain was offered to Nesta when the children spotted her. It made her heart thud and delight rippled through her body. They loved her, despite being a terrible aunt.

She clung onto Eris as Jos came bundling towards her, arms outstretched. All three of them went down onto the ice.

Nesta didn’t care which strangers laughed. Didn’t care who’d stopped to look. Jos was tossing his head back with laughter, sprawled across her legs. Even Eris let out an involuntary chuckle at their situation. She felt herself smiling too.

To stand back up, Nesta nearly brought Lucien down with her – which was met with more laughter. Eventually, she was stood with her back against the safety of the rail while the experts took another circuit of the rink. Her backside was soaked. There’d be a bruise there by evening too. Nesta nudged Eris in the ribs.

‘Thanks for dragging me onto the ice.’

‘You know what they say. Can’t be alone on Christmas.’

Nesta let out a groan. ‘Not you too. Don’t turn into one of them.’

An arm settled around her shoulders as Eris bent down to murmur into her ear. His breath was warm against her cold cheek. ‘Two and a half days to survive. We’ve got this.’

[devilsgatewayhq]

Is that Tornado Sirens in the distance? What is all this dust?

Day two of The Tonopah Valley music festival, Tonopahella as residents have begun calling it, is in full swing when disaster strikes. A sudden and ferocious sandstorm wreaks havoc, leaving attendees scrambling for safety and emergency services racing against time. As festivalgoers seek refuge inside a powerless building, the storm's ferocity leads to multiple casualties and harrowing experiences.

The calamity begins as strong winds sweep through the festival grounds, rapidly reducing visibility and forcing everyone to take cover. Amid the chaos, the stage, a centerpiece of the event, succumbs to the storm's fury. A piece of the collapsing scaffolding strikes Rafaele Morata, knocking him unconscious. Beau Sinclair, witnessing the incident, attempts to reach Morata but is temporarily blinded by the swirling sand and dust, compelling him to retreat for his safety.

Will York, endeavoring to ensure the safety of his friend Lydia Donovan, is unaware of a tree falling due to the thick, orange-tinged dust. The tree strikes him, causing him to fall and break his ankle, rendering him immobile. Meanwhile, Taylor Palmer, in his bid to flee the scene, is hit by a moving car and left incapacitated in the middle of the road.

The storm's relentless force does not spare the VIP tent either. It collapses, trapping Abril Moreno underneath and injuring her arm, leaving her unable to move. The festival grounds quickly turn into a scene of panic and confusion, with attendees and organizers doing their best to help the injured while waiting for rescue.

Will Las Vegas be able to make it in time?

[ratrodstudios]

Snowfall Reverie: A Vintage Christmas.........................

"Snowfall Reverie: A Vintage Christmas" transports viewers to a serene winter scene where nostalgia and holiday cheer converge. In the heart of a softly falling snow, a group of women stands captivated by a gleaming 1932 Ford, adorned with a festive touch for the Christmas season. The vintage car, its lines accentuated by a fresh blanket of snow, becomes a focal point that bridges the past and present.

The 1932 Ford, meticulously rendered with period details, exudes timeless elegance against the winter landscape. The surrounding snow-covered trees and quaint buildings contribute to a picturesque backdrop, creating a harmonious blend of vintage charm and winter magic.

The women, dressed in stylish winter attire, express a sense of camaraderie and shared admiration for the classic automobile. Their breath creates gentle puffs of mist in the crisp winter air as they share stories and laughter, united by the enchanting beauty of the moment. "Snowfall Reverie: A Vintage Christmas" invites viewers to step into a scene where the warmth of friendship, the allure of a timeless automobile, and the quiet grace of a snowy Christmas converge in a celebration of joy and tradition.

Greeting Cards And Artwork By Bob Kramer https://artist.greetingcarduniverse.com/bobkramer

Art By Bob Kramer https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/3-bob-kramer

Art By Bob Kramer https://www.zazzle.com/artbybobkramer

Art By Bob Kramer https://www.redbubble.com/people/BobKramer1/shop?asc=u

Rat Rod Studios https://www.cafepress.com/ratrodstudios/17350621

[antiquarianandunusual]

Duck the Halls Week One: And a “Bah, Humbug” to You Too!

Duck the Halls Masterpost

Read it on AO3!

Synopsis:  The annual Duckburg Christmas Decorating Competition is on the horizon, and Flintheart Glomgold has weaponized it to make a mockery of Scrooge. The millionaire miser, never one for the Christmas spirit, recruits very merry nephew Donald to help him figure out the ins and outs of the holiday.

The only problem is, Glomgold has the same idea, and his bribe, however small, is looking mighty tempting for the upcoming season. Looks like Donald has his work cut out for him!

Fandom: Disney Duck Comics/DuckTales (I took inspiration for the characterizations from both medias! Glomgold, however, is entirely DT87.)

A/N: I came very close to not getting this posted on time because this ended up being so much longer than I originally intended it to be. :_D

Scrooge McDuck had never been much of a Christmas man, or if he had been he certainly had an odd way of expressing it. Chasing carolers away with a tight fist (both literal and metaphorical), frustratedly changing the radio station in flight from perky holiday tunes, and displaying outward disdain for any season’s greetings before December 1st were just a few of the ways he proudly demonstrated his complicated views of the holiday. He didn’t hate it entirely, of course, but Scrooge was notorious for his jaded resentment of certain festivities ad although his family fought tooth and nail to lighten him up, he was also known for being stubbornly set in his ways. Most McDuck Industries celebrations came to pass via merry nephews and mirthful employees, and only then because he weathered the jollity for his loved ones.

So, imagine Donald Duck’s surprised when he pulled into the driveway of McDuck Manor, already humming Jingle Bells in his favorite snowman sweater, to find the mansion dripping with winter cheer on the first of November. The gutters were lined with icicle lights, twinkling even in the midday sun, and the roof had traditional holiday lights trickling down it; the strands were alternating between neon greens and brilliant reds. A winding row of abnormally large, plastic candy canes stuck out from the grass along the driveway’s path. Maybe not extravagant to the average eye, but for McDuck? It was simply a winter wonderland.

Donald hadn’t even begun to think about picking his jaw up off the ground before Scrooge appeared in the manor’s doorway like a disgruntled Santa Claus with his red coat and unkempt whiskers. He was scowling, and the dark circles under his eyes quickly betrayed his lack of sleep. “Nephew!” he barked, taping his cane on the steps.

Normally, Donald would never have let dear Uncle Scrooge regard him in such a way, but he was reeling to the point that rather than reciprocating, he obediently exited the car and stumbled towards the door. “Uncle Scrooge, wh-”

“Ssshh!” Scrooge tugged him by the sleeve and fully into the house. The only light in the main hallway after Scrooge slammed the door behind them spilled through window curtains, creating an eerie, conspiratorial air. Even more suspiciously, he rushed to press one eye to the peephole. “He might hear you!”

“Who, Uncle Scrooge?”

Only tentatively certain the coast was clear, Scrooge tilted back slightly and side-eyed Donald. “Glomgold! That no-good, low-down-”

“Slow down!” Donald hollered. “What’d he do this time?”

“Nothing incriminating- yet.” Scrooge shoulder-checked his nephew and stormed towards the dining room, the taps of his cane echoing ominously throughout the hallway. Donald nervously gulped, yet still followed, and when Scrooge haphazardly gestured towards a chair, he took it, no questions asked. The autumn sunlight blasted through the window on the far side of the cavernous room, which cast Scrooge in a pale, almost ghastly light as he took the seat across from Donald; the light’s reflection on his spectacles rendered his expression nearly unreadable, save for his tight, almost morbid frown. Shadows falling over him accented every ruffled feather and line on his weathered face. “As you know,” he started, “Flintheart Glomgold and I have been rivals for many a year.”

No kidding, Donald thought. He opted to keep it to himself.

“Of course, no matter how small the battle, I pride myself on besting him each time because it shows the world that liars, cheaters, and stealers will always be at the bottom of the barrel. Now, I refuse to stoop to his level, that’s not what I’m getting at. But I know when there’s a fight I cannae weather on my own.” He rose from his seat to cross the threshold and gaze out the window. “You noticed the decorations outside, correct?”

“Well, they’re kind of hard to miss on your front lawn, Uncle Scrooge.”

Scrooge elected to ignore this. “The annual Duckburg Christmas Decorating Competition is on the horizon and Glomgold has plans to enter it.”

“... So?”

“So, he’s taking it as an opportunity to humiliate me!” He sighed and sank into a different chair at the head of the table, massaging his temples. “He announced it on the news last night and called me out by name for ‘not having a merry bone in my body’, as if I don’t know for a fact that the cheat hired a decorator to do the work for him.”

“... But he’s right.”

“That’s beside the point, lad! I’ve never let anyone drag my name through the mud and I certainly don’t plan on starting with Flintheart Glomgold. Regardless, I can’t in good conscious let him take the win away from someone who deserves it.”

With a smirk, Donald reclined in his seat and kicked his feet up onto the table. “You want the $50 prize, don’t you?”

Scrooge swiped his legs back down. Underneath his feathers, he was beaming red. “It’s a perk, yes, but ultimately beside the point.”

Donald readjusted his sailor hat, which had fallen over his beak. “Alright. I’ll bite. What’s this got to do with me?” he grumbled.

“You said it yourself, Glomgold was right. What you see outside is about as far as I got before I hit a roadblock. If I’m going to win, I’ll need the help of someone who knows his way around Christmas.”

“Really? I thought you wanted to come by it honestly.”

“Well, clearly, I’m going to do the work, too! All I need is someone to put me in the right direction.”

“And what do I get out of it?”

“You get the knowledge that you helped your dear, old uncle. Consider it your good deed of the season.” Donald also received a hearty pat on the shoulder, and he sank under Scrooge’s hand with a squawking exhale.

“I don’t get a choice, do I?”

“Not if you want an inheritance.”

“You know, I hate that you can use that against me! Your own nephew!” He whirled around on Scrooge, who was grinning wryly.

“10 A.M. sharp. And don’t be late!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Of course, bright and early the next morning, an exhausted Donald was pushing along a cart- obviously, the only one in the store with a broken wheel- down the narrow aisles of the bargain store. He knew he could do a lot with a little and had for as long as he’d had his own house, but he had a bone to pick with Scrooge’s impressive home and characteristically minute budget. At least, he reminded himself, it wasn’t coming out of his own pocket. That was a Christmas miracle he wouldn’t turn his beak up at.

Already stocked in the cart were boxes of more lights with colors of all sorts; tinsel snowmen and Santas with stakes to go into the lawn; rich, green, plastic garland for the front of the roof and door; and all manner of quirky signs that said things like, “Santa stop here”. Donald could already vividly imagine Scrooge’s disdain, a thought that gave him the utmost satisfaction; the miser had demanded a Donald Duck Christmas, so he was going to get one. All that remained on his list was a wreath for the front door. Put it all together and you wouldn’t necessarily have a lavish set of decor, but a charming one, nonetheless.

He continued scouring the aisles, which were looking barer and barer as he shifted towards the back of the store. It appeared that they had moved most of the stock up front in wait for new inventory, which was no significant deal, but the idea that his original plan wouldn’t come to fruition already had him agitated. And he certainly wasn’t about to scramble around Duckburg for it.

It was the next to last aisle, with a flickering- yet still heavenly- fluorescent light above it was his saving grace. The wreath was absolutely hideous; it was made of peppermint-colored tinsel, glittery green ribbon wrapped around it in a way that culminated in the most endearing little bow. A total eyesore, Donald knew it was the most perfect of outcomes. He reached for it on instinct and would have had it had someone not careened head-first into his cart with theirs. The buggy he was steering violently jolted back and the handlebar went into his stomach with such force that he immediately doubled over. Little else mattered as he worked to suppress the sudden, overwhelming nauseous feeling, but he caught a glimpse of the light reflecting off of his coveted wreath as it was held high in triumph.

“Nice try, Duck!” a glib, Scottish voice proclaimed. “That’ll teach you to play errand boy for old Scroogey.”

Donald would have recognized that voice anywhere. “Glomgold?!” he sputtered. He pried his eyes upward and sure enough, there stood the richest duck in the world, who looked immensely out of place in suburban Duckburg. He looked as mean as ever with his brow furrowed over beady eyes and his beak contorted into a wry grimace.

“The old skinflint couldnae be bothered to do his own dirty work, eh?” Glomgold cackled. He tossed the wreath into his almost empty cart. “How honest of him.”

Donald was quickly possessed with the need to defend his uncle; Scrooge got on his nerves, but when it counted, he was still family. Now mostly recovered, Donald rose to his full height. “Tough talk for a guy who has to pay for someone to do his for him. At least ScACK-”

Glomgold’s breath was hot on his face, the collar of his shirt balled in the smaller man’s fist. His feet had left the ground and his torso was hovering just slightly over his buggy. “How did you know about that?!” Glomgold hissed.

“Word travels fast in Duckburg?” Donald choked.

“Bah!” Glomgold shoved Donald backwards. “Doesnae matter. I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

Rubbing his neck, Donald gave Glomgold a nasty look. “Where is your decorator, anyway? Shouldn’t they be doing this kind of work?”

“That’s my personal business and no one else’s!” For a moment, Glomgold’s eyes went wide with embarrassment, but after a moment, he recovered with a scowl. He spat a covering scoff and swiftly moved to back out of the opposite end of the aisle. His face might have been red, although Donald wouldn’t have known; the world’s second-most miser diligently kept his head down.

That is, until an idea struck him. He jolted back up and suddenly gave a mildly alarmed Donald a once-over, landing first on the buggy of seasonal goods and then on his snowflake-patterned sweatshirt. He took a deep breath, swallowed his pride, and approached again, this time careful not to slam into the other’s cart. “How would you like to help an old man out this Christmastime?”

“No, thanks.” There was an apparent edge to Donald’s voice. “Helping Uncle Scrooge is going to give me enough trouble.”

“What if I paid you?”

That caught Donald’s attention. His eyes narrowed, yet the extra layer of suspicion did little to mask the evident excitement. “How much?”

“One hundred. Not a penny over.”

The duck would have been lying if he said his heart hadn’t skipped a beat. $100 would never solve all of his problems, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt anything; there were dozens of ways he could use the extra cash. Presents, groceries, bills... Scrooge would never let him live it down, but he was always complaining about Donald not working hard enough to earn his keep...

Who said Scrooge had to find out, anyway?

“Pay me up front and we have a deal.”

Glomgold frowned. “And why exactly should I trust McDuck’s nephew to keep his word?”

“Why should I trust my uncle’s nemesis to actually pay me what I’m owed?”

“Hmm... Touché. Fine. Be at my mansion by 2 o’clock this evening- no later! You’ll get your money when you show up. My old decorator, erm... left behind most of his decorations, so all you need to do is handle putting them up.” Glomgold backed away, this time for real, and as he rounded the corner, hollered, “Remember- 2 o’clock!”

Once he vanished, Donald sighed. This was going to be a very long day.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Task one was getting McDuck Manor in tip-top shape in just under four hours, and Scrooge was already making things difficult.

If you had ever even heard of Scrooge McDuck, you were well aware that his stubbornness was unparalleled. To phrase it nicely, he was a particular man who knew precisely what he wanted, and when that vision was compromised, he quickly became testy. This was discernible from the moment Donald had begun unloading the car when he approached, at least appearing slightly more rested this time. However, a good night’s rest did little to prevent him from being ornery; all it took was a sideways glance for Donald to gauge what kind of day it was going to be.

Knowing this, Donald made the executive decision to tackle the worst of it first: the garland. Should tensions have escalated, he wanted to have solid ground beneath his feet by the time it happened; although Scrooge wasn’t particularly malicious these days, his loving nephew still didn’t entirely trust him not to “accidentally” send him over the roof’s edge. So, the dynamic duo took Donald’s old toolbox, Scrooge’s rickety ladder, and some semblance of team spirit up and to the top of the manor.

Everything started off with enough niceties. They began by temporarily removing the icicle lights that were already up, which they would reinstall over the garland. Scrooge’s habit of micromanaging manifested only in claiming the brunt of the work while Donald collected nails and wrapped the lights up neatly. They small-talked about how school was going for the nephews (surprisingly well; Donald didn’t have to tell them to do their homework as much, anymore), how Daisy was faring (as high-strung as ever), and how McDuck Industries stocks were looking (still worth trillions despite certain efforts). It was rather pleasant for a time until they actually moved on to the main part of the job.

Scrooge started on the left side of the roof and Donald on the right. The garland was just long enough to cover the length of the front of the roof, which they both concurred was all they really needed. But it was pulled taut with little give; it was only a matter of time before someone got caught on it or adjusted it just slightly too far. This person, of course, just so happened to be Donald, not even realizing he was tugging on it.

“Watch it, lad!”

“What do you mean, ‘watch it’?!”

“I mean what I said!” Scrooge gestured frantically. “You’re yanking on the blasted thing! It’ll go all uneven!”

Donald grumbled something slightly foul under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Uncle Scrooge!”

For a long moment, Scrooge glowered at Donald. Upon realizing his nephew wasn’t going to remove his gaze from his hammering, he pulled on his end of the garland. This ripped it out of Donald’s hand and sent half of it fluttering to the ground below.

Donald rolled his eyes and with a sigh, marched over to Scrooge’s side to reel the rest of the garland back up. “Really, Scrooge?”

“No clue what you’re talking about, Donald.���

And so, the games began.

The garland installation continued exactly as it began, in a passive-aggressive back-and-forth, a quiet battle of seeing who would lose their temper first. When this was done and the two of them were red-faced from pulling against one another, the replacement of the lighting kept the legacy going. These strands were just a little bit longer than the garland, so engaging in physical combat wasn’t much of an option, but they substituted tiny, antagonistic remarks and conveniently timed sighs with the sole intention of driving the other mad. No one lost it entirely, although headway was certainly made.

Afterward, they shifted to the lights Donald had just purchased, which he proposed they wrap around the driveway candy canes to create a humble chain of light along the path. This seemed to please Scrooge well enough, so Donald moved to open the boxes and dumped the strings out into his hand.

Every box was tangled into a catastrophic ball. Scrooge’s sneer quickly returned, yet he extended a helpful hand. “Let me take care of that,” he offered. “You just worry about the signposts.”

Conceding, Donald forked over the strand he was working on and snatched the bags with the signs and tinsel figures in them. He could already hear Scrooge quietly cursing as he fumbled with the lights. As he selected a tattered mallet from the toolbox, Donald opted to ignore it.

In the bags, there were currently six signs with various sayings and four of the adorable figures. An even total of ten meant five on either side of the lawn; they could be staggered, too, creating a sense of chaotic order. The image of it alone made Donald wish they had more of a front yard at the Duck household; most of their decor was confined to the porch and inside the house, which was fine, but he occupied his mind as he hammered away with thoughts of what he could do if he had as much space as Scrooge did. Inflatables were his favorite of the ideas.

“Oy!” hollered Scrooge, breaking him out of his trance. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m putting the signs up like you asked!”

“Not like that, you’re not! They’re too neat. Try mixing them up a wee bit.”

Mixing them up? Donald mouthed incredulously, though he still began pulling the stakes from the grass. He assumed Scrooge meant less orderly and more random, although he didn’t think they were particularly “neat” to begin with. Either way, he resigned himself to Scrooge’s bossiness just for the sake of getting it done; the best he could do was try for a general idea of what his uncle wanted. He had barely begun moving a red, green, and gold sign that read “Jingle all the way” before he was snapped at once more.

“A little to the right, lad! Now, just a tad back. No, the other way! The way you’re facing! Right, right, there you are!”

Donald hammered the signpost into the ground and as soon as he was finished, marched over to Scrooge. He took the half-detangled lights from his hand and replaced them with the mallet.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” quipped Scrooge.

Since Scrooge had already powered through most of them with surprising alacrity, the lights were quick work and fairly straightforward. And with McDuck occupied at either side of the property, there was no reason for the two of them to be bickering with one another. Once left to their own devices, they even glanced at one another occasionally to make sure everything was alright, offering reassuring nods and maybe even affirming smiles. When Scrooge was done with the signs, he wordlessly took a light strand and got started on the candy canes opposite Donald. Their tasks were completed much faster as they operated in silence.

Finally, both of them stepped back to admire their handiwork. By no means was it fancy or even really above average, but no one would believe they were passing Scrooge McDuck’s house. With its homespun Duck touch, the mansion looked cozier than ever. Donald couldn’t help but take pride in what they accomplished, and neither could Scrooge, who gave him a well-meaning smack on the shoulder.

“Would you look at that! Not half bad, lad.”

Donald beamed. “Thanks, Uncle Scrooge.”

“But I cannae help but wonder if there’s something missing.” He pointed thoughtfully at the door. “What about hanging something there? A wreath, maybe?”

Donald inhaled sharply- he had just about forgotten. “I tried to find one while I was out,” he threw out as he pulled out his watch. “They were all out, so I’ll have to look again when they restock.”

It was only 12:35. A sigh of relief escaped his beak; he was way ahead of schedule.

“You’ve got somewhere to be?” He looked back up at Scrooge and noticed the billionaire’s eyebrow was raised. A bead of sweat fell down the side of Donald’s face.

“Oh, uh... I’m... just working an odd job downtown. To make some extra money for the holidays.” It wasn’t entirely a lie- simply a paraphrased version of what was really happening. Right?

The response began as a small hum of what seemed to be understanding and a slight nod. Scrooge audibly exhaled and for a moment, Donald wondered if he might have been disappointed. “Alright then, lad. You best be going, then. Don’t want to be late, do we?”

“Of course not, Uncle Scrooge.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Donald had meagerly hoped that Glomgold would be thrilled that he was there not only on time but over an hour early. He was, in fact, the opposite. He was already shouting about Donald’s audacity for showing up at his door without warning and how when he gave a time, he meant it. At least he kept his word about the payment.

Glomgold hadn’t even bothered to get the decorations ready or have one of his many staff members take care of it; everything was piled up in the main hall and looked to have been there for several days. There were boxes that had toppled over and not been picked up, ornaments that had rolled out of the fray and across the floor, and some containers that had dents in them from where they had seemingly been kicked. It was already apparent that this was going to be a much bigger job than he had just done for Scrooge and longer, too, because there was no way he was going to coax an already bilious Flintheart into helping him.

He didn’t even have any place to start. There were no decorations already up, and when he asked what was wanted, Glomgold offered little more than a “figure it out” before retreating into his study. Donald didn’t entirely mind being given creative liberty, yet he had a feeling deep in his heart that he didn’t have nearly as much freedom as he was being led to believe. Either way, his only choice was to swallow his pride and get to work.

The rest of the afternoon and into the evening was one of the worst work experiences he had ever had the displeasure of having- and he had had many a rotten one. He arrived at around 12:45 and ended up at the manor until approximately 8 p.m. In that time, he redid the decorations he had worked so hard on a grand total of three times.

It wasn’t the workload or the time it took that bothered him, but rather the lack of respect on the part of his temporary employer. Whenever Glomgold broke away from his study to check in, it was always to nitpick, to berate, to demand he do it again, do better, with no other instruction. He would slam the door when going back indoors, which almost always knocked decorations of some kind down; there was one time when the ladder Donald was using shook and almost fell to the ground, the only saving grace being that the duck was quick to catch onto the gutters for stability. That was the third time he had done it, and the time that helped Donald realize it was intentional.

Scrooge was obnoxiously discrete, but by the second time Glomgold had demanded he take everything down and start completely from scratch, he desperately missed his uncle’s criticisms.

By the time 8 o’clock had finally come around, Glomgold seemed absolutely indifferent about the grueling work Donald had diligently put into this round of decorating. As he worked, the worn decorator came up with the most intense, inspiring speech he could in the event that he was told to do it again. He was actually rather disappointed that he wasn’t and what somehow made it even worse was that Glomgold didn’t even say he liked it. He just told Donald his job was done, and he could go home.

Donald’s exhaustion became fully palpable when he sank into the driver’s seat of his car. Each and every muscle he had used begged for rest and he could barely keep his eyes open and focused on the road. He didn’t even remember most of the ride home.

He more fell into the doorway than stepped. The triplet nephews were already in bed by now, but he could see the living room light on where Daisy, who was keeping an eye on them, was still awake. “Daisy, I’m home,” he half-whispered as he shuffled towards the quiet sounds of the television.

He heard the voice before he saw the face. “How was your workday, lad?”

A jolt of energy sparked through Donald’s body. He looked up and there was Scrooge on the couch, arms crossed like a parent waiting for a teenager that was out past curfew. “Uncle Scrooge? Where’s Daisy?”

“Oh, I sent her home. You said it yourself, she’s just been working so hard lately, I figured she’d want a break. Besides, I want to have a little chat.” Scrooge patted the seat on the couch next to him. Very carefully, Donald approached and sat down. “How was old Flinty?”

“How did you-?!”

Scrooge scrunched his face up in morbid glee. “‘Word travels fast in Duckburg.’” He half-sighed, half-chuckled. “After you left, a certain someone left a voicemail on my answering machine. Oh, that mountebank was just dying to tell me that he got my nephew to work for him. Real proud of himself. I didn’t even make it through the whole message, I was so angry with you. I almost marched down there myself and dragged you back home!”

“... But...?”

“Well, Duckworth heard through the grapevine that his decorator had quit after a series of disagreements. A whole lot of foul behavior out of that man.”

“It’s because he’s awful!” Donald finally snapped.

“Which is exactly why I restrained myself.” He leaned in and firmly gripped Donald’s shoulder. “Learned your lesson, did you?”

Donald festered in it for a moment.

“‘Yes, Uncle Scrooge. I’m right sorry I worked with your arch-nemesis, Uncle Scrooge!’”

“Oh, fine! I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry! Now, can I go to bed? I’m beat.”

“Just one more thing.” Grinning, Scrooge held out his hand. “Give me half of what he paid you.”

“What? No way!”

“Och, well now I’m never going to forget the sting of your betrayal-”

“Shush up, you old geezer, here!” Donald slapped fifty out of the hundred into Scrooge’s hand. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“Aye, we’ve all got something to be ashamed of. Now, you best be getting upstairs. I overheard the bairns planning to pull out your decorations tomorrow morning.”

Donald buried his face into one of the couch’s pillows, Scrooge’s cackles echoing in his ears.

[mylavenu99]

Jagannath Temple Hyderabad: How to reach, Location, History & significance

 Hyderabad lies a haven of serenity – the  Jagannath Temple. This magnificent structure, dedicated to Lord Jagannath, the embodiment of the universe, is a cultural and spiritual landmark for devotees across India.Lord Shree Jagannath Temple is a magnificent creation of Kalinga Cultural Trust to provide a sacred place for worship and to arouse divine thoughts in mind and hearts of people. This temple strictly adheres to the principles of sanctity, equity, discipline and cleanliness. The temple is an architectural delight and is a destination to experience peace and tranquility. The temple premise vibrates with the energy of the divine and renders an unique and unforgettable feeling. Enter the precincts of the Majestic Lord  Jagannath Temple  hyderabad at Road No.12, Banjara Hills, Hyderabad and you will like to visit again and again being drawn closer to the God.

A Historical Journey:

The story of the Jagannath Temple begins in 1992 when a group of Odia devotees in Hyderabad envisioned a place to celebrate their rich heritage. After years of dedication and perseverance, the temple was finally consecrated in 2009. Inspired by the iconic Jagannath Temple in Puri, Odisha, its architectural style reflects a blend of tradition and modernity. Constructed with red sandstone, the temple boasts a towering Shikhara (spire) that reaches 70 feet, a testament to the skilled craftsmanship involved.

A Celebration of Faith:

The  Jagannath Temple is a vibrant center of devotion. Devotees are drawn to the daily pujas (worship rituals) and festivals like Ratha Yatra (Chariot Festival). This annual spectacle, which sees the deities being paraded through the streets on ornately decorated chariots, is a sight to behold. Thousands of devotees participate in this joyous celebration, chanting hymns and seeking blessings.

Why Pray to Lord Jagannath

The Lord who listens and responds to prayers. His kripa and concern are unfathomable.

Lord who rescued the king elephant from the crocodile, saving him by killing the crocodile with the Sudarshan chakra when prayed to be rescued.

He responded to Draupadi’s distressed cries from the Kuru sabha/darbar, protecting her dignity and saving her from shame.

And also He gave shelter to Vibhishana, Ravana’s brother, and bestowed upon him the throne.

Jagannath is Jagat (the Universe) and Nath (the Lord). That is, Jagannath is the Lord of the Universe, does not belong to any caste, creed, sect, religion, or race. He is beyond space and time and not the Lord of Hindus only but the Lord of Suffering Humanity. He is the remover of sins and the giver of Mukti. and also the purifier of the fallen.

Jagannath temple Hyderabad timings:

Day

Timing

Monday

6:00 am – 11:00 am 5:00 pm – 9:00 pm

Tuesday

6:00 am – 11:00 am 5:00 pm – 9:00 pm

Wedesday

6:00 am – 11:00 am 5:00 pm – 9:00 pm

Thursday

6:00 am – 11:00 am 5:00 pm – 9:00 pm

Friday

6:00 am – 11:00 am 5:00 pm – 9:00 pm

Saturday

6:00 am – 11:00 am 5:00 pm – 10:00 pm

Sunday

6:00 am – 11:00 am 5:00 pm – 10:00 pm

How to reach the Temple:

 Jagannath Temple  Hyderabad Location:

The temple is situated on Road No. 12, Banjara Hills, Hyderabad. It’s close to KBR Park and opposite the Telangana Bhavan.

Reaching the Temple:

By Car:

If you’re using a navigation app, simply enter “Jagannath Temple, Hyderabad” as your destination.

There’s a reasonable amount of free parking available on the temple’s northern and eastern sides.

By Public Transport:

Bus: Several buses ply routes near the temple. You can take buses

Auto-rickshaw or Taxi: These are readily available throughout Hyderabad. You can simply hail one and mention “Jagannath Temple, Banjara Hills” as your destination.

Significant Structure:

SIMHA DWARA:

(Lions Gate or eastern gate) – It is one of the four entrances to the temple and is considered the main entry. It is named so that on either side there are two colossal statues of couching lions with crowns on their head. The gate faces east and therefore is also known as Purva Dwara or the eastern gate. The gate is intricately designed and carved and is of artistic finery and beauty. During Ratha Jatra, the idols of Lord Jagannath, Balabhadra, and Maa Subhadra are taken out to the chariot through this gate. The statue of Lord Mahalaxmi is at the top of the door. The door symbolizes the principle of Dharma and also the majesty of strength through the lion.

VYAGHRA DWARA: The Western door (Tiger gate) is guarded by two statues of tigers and is also known as Paschima dwara or Vyaghra dwara. It symbolizes Moksha and Vairagya (Renunciation) and energy by different schools of believers.

HATHI DWARA: The northern door, the Hathi Dwara or Uttara Dwara, is also symbolically indicated in this temple in view of the constraint of access to the temple from the northern side. This gate represents artha or prosperity different believers.

ASWA DWARA:

The southern gate is guarded by two statues of horses. This Aswa dwara symbolically represents Kama or Gyana (Knowledge) or military powers.

Navagraha statues are placed on all the gates in addition to small images of Shiva, Vishnu, Hanuman, Durga, and Narasimha.

 ARUNA STAMBHA: The pillar is named after Aruna, the charioteer of the Sun God. In Puri, it is a sixteen-sided pillar (Height 25′ 2”, circumference 6′ 3.5″) with Aruna in prayer mode. An elegant and master piece of art, it is placed before the temple as the Sun God is considered identical with Vishnu from Vedic times. An  Aruna stamba cladded with carved and designed brass plates adorns the Jagannath Temple at Hyderabad. Artistic and imposing, it stands tall at 20 feet.

BAISI PAHACHA

(Twenty-two steps): After entering the temple premises from the eastern gate, one needs to climb 22 steps to proceed towards the sanctum sanctorum of Lord Jagannath. In  Puri temple, each of these steps is 70ft in length, 6ft in width, and 6 to 7 inches in height. Here the steps are symbolic and do not conform to this measurement. The steps are given a lot of divine significance and considered auspicious for numerous holy activities. It is believed that during the car festival, several Gods, Goddesses, demigods, heavenly entities, souls of ancestors, Chitragupta, and Yamadootas descend upon these steps to witness the Pahandi of Lord Jagannath during the Ratha Jatra/Car festival.

BASI PANCHA significance

Madan Mohan, the representative idol of Lord Jagannath, offers pindadana on these steps to His ancestors—Nanda and Yashoda, Devaki and Vasudeva, Koushalya and Dasaratha on chaturdashi theethi of the dark fortnight in the month of Margasira. He also offers pindadana to King Indradyumna, who built the temple, and Queen Gundicha since they were childless. The steps are also called steps of self-control as these steps represent 22 kinds of faults and weaknesses in human beings.

Children are made to roll down on the steps to bring them spiritual bliss and happiness. Each of these sacred steps is named differently as: 1) Tidva, 2) Kumundati, 3) Manda, 4) Chalobati, 5) Dayabati, 6) Rajani, 7) Ratika, 8) Raohi, 9) Krodha, 10) Bajrika, 11) Prasavani, 12) Priti, 13) Marjana, 14) Khati, 15) Rakta, 16) Sandhipani, 17) Alapani, 18) Mandanti, 19) Rohini, 20) Gamya, 21) Ugra, 22) Khorini.

Crossing the 22 steps means crossing the 22 shortcomings to see the Lord. The shortcomings (Para Prakriti) are Kama, Sambhoga, Keli, Lova, Sancaya, Kosa or Panjikarana, Abhamaya, Himsa, Ersa, Kisunata, Kapata, Mithya, Hhuna, Ninda, Ajanta, Krodha, Raga, Dvesa, Ahankar, Mada or Parba, Uthkantha, Maithuna.

It is also believed that Baikuntha, the abode of Lord Vishnu, is situated above saptaloka, sapta patala, and asta baikuntha (22 stages); one has to cross them to reach the Lord. Thus, the steps in the temple take the devotees to the sanctum to have his Darshan. The  Hyderabad temple also has 22 steps leading to Garuda Stamba and to the sanctum thereafter, though not of the same specification as that of  Puri Temple.

Must know: Swarnagiri temple

GARUDA STAMBHA:

A cosmic column which joins heaven and earth, Garuda is a vehicle of Lord Vishnu. Garuda is ever ready to serve the Lord with exemplary devotion and extraordinary power. Garuda is constantly watching the Lord on the Ratnavedi. Garuda Deva is installed on the column made out of wood and cladded with intricately woven brass at the entrance of Nata Mandir. The devotees, before proceeding towards the sanctum, touch and go into extraordinary devotion and a state of surrender to the Lord. A mere touch is assuring and arouses a cosmic connection with the devotee. Garuda Stambha is of the same importance as Nandi in Shiva temple.

NILA CHAKRA:

The Neela chakra or the Blue Wheel adorns the top of the temple. The wheel symbolizes the Sudarshan Chakra, the most powerful disc weapon of Lord Vishnu. The wheel is made out of alloys of eight metals consisting of iron, copper, zinc, mercury, lead, brass, silver, and gold. The Neela chakra in  Puri temple weighs 2200 Kgs and has a height of 11 ft 8 inches with a diameter of 7 ft 6 inches. There are 8 wheel bars in the chakra.

The Neela chakra has eight Navagunjaras carved in the outer circumference all facing towards the flag post above. The Neela chakra in this temple is much similar but small in size and about 2’X3′ in width and height and weighs about 100 Kgs. A flag is flown tied to the mast attached to the Nilachakra. It is a pious and holy act to offer the flags to the temple.

Daily rituals in the Temple (Niti and Dhupas)

Morning (Sakala Dhupa):

Dwarapitha: The day begins with the opening of the temple doors and the sanctum sanctorum.

Mangala Arati: The first lamp offering to awaken the deities.

Mailam: Removal of the previous night’s dress and offerings from the deities.

Abakash: Ritualistic cleaning and bathing of the deities.

Besha Mailam: Dressing the deities in fresh clothes.

Sahan Mela: A brief public viewing of the deities in the sanctum sanctorum.

Besha Ulagi: Changing the deities’ clothes again.

Rosa Homa: Offering of oblations to the fire.

Surya Puja & Dwarapala Puja: Worship rituals dedicated to the Sun God and the guardian deities of the temple doors.

Gopala Ballav Bhoga: Breakfast offering to the deities.

Sakala Dhupa: The main morning food offering, consisting of various vegetarian preparations like black gram (kanti, enduri, etc.), rice, curries, sweets, etc. This offering is performed with 16 “upacharas” (ritualistic steps).

Midday (Madhyana Dhupa):

Similar rituals as the morning, including Mailam, Besha, and offering of a more elaborate midday meal (Madhyana Dhupa) with a wider variety of dishes.

Afternoon (Madhyan Pahuda):

Sandhya Arati: Evening lamp offering to the deities. (This might occur before Madhyan Dhupa if there’s no Madhyan Pahuda)

Madhyan Pahuda: A period of midday rest for the deities. (This might be skipped depending on the temple schedule)

Evening (Sandhya Dhupa):

Similar rituals as the morning, including Mailam, Besha, and offering of an evening meal (Sandhya Dhupa).

Chandana Lagi: Applying sandalwood paste to the deities.

Badasinghara Besa: Dressing the deities in special attire for the night.

Badasinghara Dhupa: A final food offering before the deities retire for the night.

Khatasejulagi and Pahuda: Putting the deities to sleep in their designated chamber for the night.

Types of Prasad:

Mahaprasad: This is the main Prasad offered to Lord Jagannath and then distributed to devotees. It consists of a variety of vegetarian dishes, including:

Rice preparations: Khechudi (sweet rice dish), Kanji (sour rice dish), Pukhala (rice cooked with vegetables) etc.

Dal: Mixed lentils cooked with spices

Sabzi (Vegetable Curries): A variety of seasonal vegetables cooked in different styles

Sweets: Gaja (flattened rice cake with jaggery), Peda (sweet milk balls), Laddu (sweet balls made with flour and sugar) etc.

Sukhilla Prasad: These are dry offerings that devotees can purchase directly from the temple counter. They include:

Khaja: A crispy sweet pastry made with flour and ghee

Gaja: As mentioned above

Laddu: As mentioned above

Distribution of Prasad:

Free Prasad: A limited quantity of Mahaprasad is distributed to devotees free of cost after morning and evening Aaratis (lamp offerings).

Paid Prasad: Devotees can purchase Sukhila Prasad from the temple counter. The cost is nominal.

Puja Name

Description

Approximate Cost (INR)

Abhishekam

A sacred bath for the deities with various auspicious substances like milk, curd, honey, etc.

₹500 – ₹2000

Archana

Offering prayers and chanting mantras specific to a particular deity.

₹100 – ₹500

Laghu Rudrabhishekham (Shiva Puja)

A simplified version of the Rudrabhishekham puja for Lord Shiva.

₹300 – ₹1000

Satyanarayan Puja

A puja dedicated to Lord Vishnu for blessings of peace, prosperity, and well-being.

₹500 – ₹1500

Griha Shanti Puja

A puja performed for peace and harmony in the household.

₹1000 – ₹3000

Vishnu Sahasranama Archana

Chanting of the thousand names of Lord Vishnu.

₹200 – ₹500

Special Pujas (Birthday Pujas, Marriage Anniversary Pujas)

Pujas performed on specific occasions like birthdays or wedding anniversaries.

₹1000 – ₹5000 (depending on the complexity)

Some pujas may require booking in advance, especially during peak seasons or festival

The temple might offer a wider variety of pujas on request. It’s recommended to inquire with the temple administration for a complete list.

[sam-vargas]

Whistler, BC

In the silent and peaceful mountains hidden along the west coast of Canada, resided the small resort town of Whistler. The village, enveloped in the slow downfall of snow and the quiet whispers of cold breezes through the pines, triggered a sense of nostalgia.

Few cars passed through the road between the mountain lodges and the village. White fairy lights wound around tree branches and hung in shop windows. Snow coated the foliage of the trees and the ground in a thin sheet, while small, almost indiscernible flakes of white drifted from the black skies beyond the gray haze of clouds. They made their descent, dancing on the breeze like miniature cotton balls. Snow peaked mountains surrounded the perimeter of the village ascending into and past the low hanging sheet of clouds, their silhouettes shadowed and undefined against a haze of white backdrop. 

As the annually anticipated December holiday drew nearer, strings of green, red, and blue lights wound around the snow caked pine trees and across the metal railings of small bridges, producing festive atmosphere. Electronic snowflakes hung from lampposts, and green lights hung beneath the bridges, the light reflecting off the white snow covering the layer of ice over frozen water. Reminiscent of log cabins in the woods, the accumulating snow and warm lighting from the shops bathed the entire village in an atmosphere of warmth and festivity.The fleeting whispers of winter breezes maneuvered through frost blanketed fir trees, and around the towering silhouettes of encompassing mountains. Snowfall filled the background silence between gusts like white noise. 

Voices pitched high and low, soft and loud mingled with the snowfall, breeze and rustling pine needles. Chatter and laughter followed the crunch of booted feet in the snow as people moved throughout the village. The warm glow of the shop windows cast squares of orange across the walkways and snowy streets and illuminated passerbys. Buildings of dark wood panels influenced the ski resort aesthetic of the village. 

With the snow and higher altitudes came the nose nipping, bone chilling cold. The bite of the air sans windchill warranted a snow jacket, two shirts, two pairs of pants, a pair of sock liners, wool socks, and a pair of snow boots. Even then, the cold rendered those layers useless. 

Some took advantage of the cold. Couples clung to one another, scrambling for warmth when the short, freezing winds passed through. Children burrowed deeper into their puffy snow jackets, stuffing their gloved hands into warm pockets and squinting teary eyes. I clung to my father, the tallest member of my family, and used him as a shield against the winds whenever they blustered. Relief came at the end of the day in the form of free hot chocolate and apple cider upon our return to the lodge.

The unforgiving element to natives of warmer climates became a welcome comfort synonymous with the cold spray of snow and scratch of skis on slopes. Nights spent curled by the fire, palms warmed by the ceramic of a mug, and lungs warmed by the scent of spiced fruit wafting through the steam. Pure, white snow blanketed the mountainside in thick layers, falling from the sky in delicate flurries from sheets of gray clouds. When the oppressive heat and humidity native to the sunshine state become too much, I will fondly remember the clean, crisp allure of Whistler.

[uppervalleya]

Upper Valley Honda

Although Upper Valley Honda is based in Vermont, they cater to a sizable clientele from New Hampshire. Once they arrive at White River Junction, they intend to visit the oppressed in an attempt to mediate a peaceful resolution. Nobody does Honda service like Upper Valley Honda in the Upper Valley region, which includes parts of Vermont and New Hampshire. The parking lot can be accessed from the addresses mentioned previously. When it's convenient for you, please browse our wide network of Honda dealerships. honda dealership near me When you're ready, we're always here to speak with an expert in loans. Our shop can provide any Honda, new or old, with the same-day service it needs. There are numerous reasons why the name Upper Valley Honda is intriguing. Situated close to Vermont's White River Junction, upstairs Valley Honda is a well-liked hangout for contented Honda owners. Visit us now to find out more. Joining our team is an incredible opportunity for you to make an impact.

Honda dealers near me

Never-ending Many advantages come with our Certified Pre-Owned cars, such as a warranty and a thorough 182-point inspection.

Sincerely, I hope that the entire cost of this project does not exceed fifteen thousand dollars.

From our large inventory, find the ideal pre-owned car for less than $15,000. You are welcome to peruse the advertisements at any time while searching for a used vehicle.

It captivated my interest to the extent that I started to question my place in Manchester's social scene.

A few of the many quaint Vermont towns that Upper Valley Honda suggests are Manchester, Montpelier, Concord, and White River Junction. You shouldn't pass up the opportunity to network with other industry experts in a field that is constantly evolving. I'll try my best to settle in after we move into our new home and get to know everyone. Please, just give me a moment. Visit the White River Junction store to appreciate its stunning beauty up close. The festivities have to begin immediately! All we can do for now is cross our fingers and hope you can stop by. I'm thinking of you and praying for you right now. Please do not hesitate to contact us at any time if you need assistance or have any questions about our inventory or the recently revealed Honda vehicles. We offer solutions for every type of business, from Fortune 500 giants to small mom-and-pop shops. Let us handle it while you relax.

Our top priority is making sure our customers are happy.

Because every single one of our customers is important to us, we at Upper Valley Honda work hard to meet their needs. Our top priority is ensuring the satisfaction of both current and previous clients. They are more inclined to suggest it to others as a result. We are very much in favor of this concept. We hope to allay your worries with our three-day return policy and 100,000-mile warranty. Should the items you purchased be of poor quality, we would both be unhappy. We care more about helping you with the paperwork involved in purchasing a car than we do about closing a deal. I could have done all the things I wanted to do to catch your attention.

We are sure that among our large selection of new and used Honda vehicles, you will find the perfect vehicle here at our dealership.

Make sure you research any purchases you make from Upper Valley Honda thoroughly. Anyone in the White River Junction, Vermont area who owns a Honda would adore this vehicle. It should be easy to obtain evidence to back up your claim if you follow these guidelines. The pinnacle of our work is matching each customer with the ideal vehicle. Amazing cutting-edge safety features are featured in this cutting-edge SUV. Do you also think that this is really fascinating? The Honda CR-V is a fantastic option. Anyone who has heard us boast about this car knows that we think it's a fantastic buy. This is as a result of the Honda CR-V having these features. The spacious cabin of the Honda HR-V renders it a visually appealing and pragmatic choice. honda dealers near me To be honest, everything is going great so far. That being said, the interior is surprisingly roomy for a vehicle of that size. It's highly likely that you are not in the market for a Honda Accord. It ought to be abundantly evident by now that you are the one questioning your authority. Please let us know if you haven't had an opportunity to test or view a new model recently so we can make sure we live up to your expectations. Please let us know if you prefer the most recent model when it is released. You've given a really good analysis. The Honda Accord is more stylish than ever, with a luxurious interior and state-of-the-art technology. The 2017 Honda Accord's wealth of excellent features is one crucial component. Honda Civics are ideal for first-time drivers because of their many safety features and simple smartphone connectivity. If a buyer is knowledgeable and patient, they may be able to negotiate a lower car price if they are bold and ask the right questions.

Any object can be kept in good operating order with routine upkeep and repairs. Your confidence will soar once you've done it.

Honda car dealer near me

As long as you can remember the basics, it doesn't matter where you bought or had your Honda serviced. The proximity of the two locations serves as the primary justification. Like a well-oiled sales and maintenance machine, our first priority is ensuring our customers are satisfied. With the support of the relevant departments, the program has enormous potential for success. You can be confident that our specialists, who have all successfully completed Honda's rigorous training programmes, will provide your vehicle with high-quality service. Our specialty is fixing Honda cars. You may be confident that we'll try our hardest to utilize fewer third-party components. If at all possible, look for a lifetime warranty that covers both parts and servicing. Financially speaking, it's the best option. New tires, authentic Honda parts, aftermarket accessories, and much more are among the numerous items offered here. Until I am certain that I cannot, I will not waver in my commitment to our cause. At Upper Valley Honda, customer satisfaction is our top priority. After 30 days, you can get your money back if you're not satisfied with how we solved your problem. If we take advantage of this chance right away, we can raise our profile in the community.

[ratrodstudios2]

Snowfall Reverie: A Vintage Christmas.........................

"Snowfall Reverie: A Vintage Christmas" transports viewers to a serene winter scene where nostalgia and holiday cheer converge. In the heart of a softly falling snow, a group of women stands captivated by a gleaming 1932 Ford, adorned with a festive touch for the Christmas season. The vintage car, its lines accentuated by a fresh blanket of snow, becomes a focal point that bridges the past and present.

The 1932 Ford, meticulously rendered with period details, exudes timeless elegance against the winter landscape. The surrounding snow-covered trees and quaint buildings contribute to a picturesque backdrop, creating a harmonious blend of vintage charm and winter magic.

The women, dressed in stylish winter attire, express a sense of camaraderie and shared admiration for the classic automobile. Their breath creates gentle puffs of mist in the crisp winter air as they share stories and laughter, united by the enchanting beauty of the moment. "Snowfall Reverie: A Vintage Christmas" invites viewers to step into a scene where the warmth of friendship, the allure of a timeless automobile, and the quiet grace of a snowy Christmas converge in a celebration of joy and tradition.

Greeting Cards And Artwork By Bob Kramer https://artist.greetingcarduniverse.com/bobkramer

Art By Bob Kramer https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/3-bob-kramer

Art By Bob Kramer https://www.zazzle.com/artbybobkramer

Art By Bob Kramer https://www.redbubble.com/people/BobKramer1/shop?asc=u

Rat Rod Studios https://www.cafepress.com/ratrodstudios/17350621

[personal-reporter]

Summer Jamboree 2023 a Lugano

Dal 22 al 25 giugno 2023 torna a Lugano con la seconda edizione il Summer Jamboree on the Lake, il Festival Internazionale di musica e cultura dell’America più grande al mondo, che sbarca sulle rive del Ceresio. Promosso da Lugano Region, con il patrocinio della Città di Lugano, anche quest’anno il festival vedrà il Rock’n’Roll, marchio di fabbrica del Festival nato a Senigallia 23 anni fa, ormai considerato punto di riferimento per tutti gli amanti del genere. Il Summer Jamboree on the Lake 2023 sarà con quattro giorni di grandi concerti ad ingresso gratuito, distribuiti nei due palchi di Piazza Riforma e Boschetto Ciani, ma non solo, tanti Record Hop con DJs internazionali dal mattino a notte inoltrata accompagneranno i partecipanti in un gioioso viaggio nel tempo. Un bel Vintage Market accoglierà il pubblico in Piazza Manzoni, con espositori selezionati di abbigliamento vintage, scarpe, accessori, oggettistica e riproduzioni, modernariato, memorabilia da collezione ed un Barber shop, oltre ad aree street food & beverage in Piazza Manzoni e a Parco Ciani. Si aggiungeranno tanti altri eventi e progetti pensati per rendere omaggio ad un’epoca straordinaria, come il Car park per auto americane pre 1969 sul Lungolago, tantissimi spazi dedicati al ballo: tra lezioni gratuite per imparare a muovere i primi passi e immergersi nelle danze Swing e Rock’n’Roll e il Summer Jamboree on the Lake Dance Camp, una full immersion dedicata all’apprendimento dei balli Swing e Rock’n’Roll con alcuni tra i migliori ballerini della scena Swing e Rock’n’Roll internazionale, quali Vincenzo Fesi, Moe Sakan, Simona Pogosian, Sandy Lewis, Martí Gasol e Francesco Pezzo. A presentare il festival saranno due artisti eccezionali, già padroni di casa del Summer Jamboree 2022 di Senigallia: come il performer e coreografo Russel Bruner, e la pioniera del Bump&Grind in Italia, Bianca Nevius, che saranno anche i protagonisti di un seducente e ironico Burlesque Show a notte inoltrata sul palco di boschetto Ciani. Al Summer Jamboree on the Lake 2023 si esibiranno artisti internazionali che stanno scrivendo la storia del Rock’n’Roll, raccontata in tutte le sue declinazioni tra R’n’R, Swing, Country, Rockabilly, Rhythm’n’Blues, Hillbilly, Doo-wop, Western swing,  che negli anni è divenuta un culto, che si tramanda di generazione in generazione, sempre attuale e in grado di fare breccia tra persone di tutte le età. Read the full article

[maztroconsulting]

Amod Residency Sector 73 Sarfabad Noida | 1/2/3 BHK Lowrise Apartments

Welcome To Amod Residency, Sector 73, Noida

Amod Residency, Sector 73, Noida: A magnificent lowrise project draped in regal luxury!

  Nestled within a huge expanse of verdant greenery and studded with innumerable lifestyle features, facilities, and amenities, Amod Residency is a dream come true for home seekers in Noida. A royal project by the reputed construction group, Aashi Constructions, the entire rendering is a beautiful fusion of modern design and a posh environment. Crafted to meet your expectations of a luxurious urban lifestyle amidst a great family environment, this elegant development is the place where you can celebrate each day in joyous festivities.

  The project having 55+ apartment units in total, what sets Amod Residency Noida apart from other developments in the region is its unique location advantage. Being just 20 minutes’ away from the National Capital, New Delhi and in close vicinity to an expressway, this magnificent project boasts of many more important destinations like renowned hospitals, educational institutions, major markets & shopping hubs in its close vicinity.

  The project is constructed in Sector 73, Noida city. The city is known for its contemporary lifestyle. Thus the project has lots of amenities like state-of-art clubhouse, swimming pool, car washing points, separate play area for children,

  Elegantly designed apartments, retail facility for shopping, beautifully landscaped area, hassle-free parking, 24 x 7 power back-up & water supply, high-end security, fire fighting system, pollution-free environs, captivating water fountain & sit-out zone, piped gas connection, Wifi connection, et al. The spaces are indeed designed to bestow you with a regal lifestyle.

To present you the best way of stylish and supreme living, Amod Residency has brought a range of smart and lovely apartments to luxury homebuyers in Noida.

  This is one of the finest constructions in Sector 73, Noida at the same prices and hence, visitors are providing positive reviews and overwhelming responses to this property. The developers have made it eco-friendly and execute great green living facilities in the complex.

  The exteriors are very unique here and attract everyone with their magnificent designs. Glorious 1/2/3 BHKs in different sizes and configurations are available here from new bookings.

  The accessibility from Amod Residency Noida is very smooth to the important key areas and major landmarks in NCR. Metro station is just 5 minutes and the upcoming Jewar International Airport is just 30 minutes of drive away from here.

  All the luxury resources, supreme amenities, and world-class facilities are available in the complex. So, select a dream home here today and get the experience of an exotic living in Noida.

  Amod Residency Price is actually too low. Don’t waste time in just thinking, get set go and book your dream residence in the city of Noida. It’s one of the happening cities of the National Capital Region. Thus what are you waiting for? Explore the various payment options and loan facilities.

Maztro Consulting's insight:

Amod Residency, Sector 73, Noida: A magnificent lowrise project draped in regal luxury!

  The project having 55+ apartment units in total, what sets Amod Residency Noida apart from other developments in the region is its unique location advantage. Being just 20 minutes’ away from the National Capital, New Delhi and in close vicinity to an expressway, this magnificent project boasts of many more important destinations like renowned hospitals, educational institutions, major markets & shopping hubs in its close vicinity.

  The project is constructed in Sector 73, Noida city. The city is known for its contemporary lifestyle. Thus the project has lots of amenities like state-of-art clubhouse, swimming pool, car washing points, separate play area for children,

[manjeeth-salian]

Major Project: Concept - 2

"Revving Up the Night: Rendering of the Zakspeed Ford Capri Race Car in an Unconventional Environment"

For the second concept I have the opportunity to work on something distinctively different, yet equally exhilarating. 

My focus for this project is on the legendary Zakspeed Ford Capri race car, which has played a significant role in the automotive industry. However, my challenge was not just to create a stunning rendering of the car, but to place it in an unconventional environment that defies the traditional expectations. 

Inspiration for this project was derived from the extraordinary photograph of Ken Block's Hoonigan taken at night. In the photo, the car is positioned on a city street with wet roads, and the resulting effect is truly awe-inspiring. As soon as I saw it, I knew it would be the perfect inspiration for my rendering. 

Before commence this project, I began researching the Ford Capri race car and familiarizing myself with its unique design and features. As an icon of its time, I aimed to capture the car's essence in my rendering, emphasizing its sleek lines, bold colors, and sharp angles to create a powerful impact. 

Next, I wanted to focus on the perfect environment for the car. I chose a city street at night with wet roads to produce a dramatic effect. This environment would accentuate the car's sleek design, allowing it to stand out against the dark backdrop. Additionally, the wet roads would reflect the car's lights, adding depth and dimension to the scene. 

To further enhance the impact of the rendering, I would use a lower angle shot, creating a sense of depth to the background. 

For this project, I would utilize path trace rendering in Unreal, a powerful tool that would allow me to create powerful and striking automotive rendering that captures the essence of the Ford Capri race car in a completely different environment. The contrast of the car's bold design against the dark, wet street creates an unforgettable effect that truly brings the car to life.

Source: Reference:

Wallhere.com. (2015). Available at: https://get.wallhere.com/photo/Photoshop-sport-night-water-car-reflection-vehicle-photography-evening-atmosphere-wet-Ford-racing-midnight-Mustang-light-weather-outdoor-lighting-darkness-auto-retouch-screenshot-mode-of-transport-phenomenon-needforspeed-nfs-hoonicorn-858021.jpg.

Ultimatecarpage.com. (n.d.). Ford Zakspeed Capri - Chassis: ZAK-G5C-002/80 - 2018 Goodwood Festival of Speed. [online] Available at: https://www.ultimatecarpage.com/img/Ford-Zakspeed-Capri-139350.html.

Wallpaperaccess.com. (2023). Available at: https://wallpaperaccess.com/full/2785081.jpg.